A/N: This is the first time I have tried writing a one-shot story and even more with this pairing. It's been a while since I've done any writing lately due to my studies but it's up to you to judge. I'm also not sure if I should up the rating to M but you guys decide. I'll keep it to T as of now but you've been given the heads up.

Reading Aid for this story:

"Thoughts"

Flashbacks

Normal Narration

Disclaimer: Crypton, AHS, Internet Co., Yamaha. They own Vocaloid. I only own the plot.

Count Our Sins

"Are you going to admit to your sins yet, woman?"

Stern words echo in the air as the light from the stained-glass window brought in color to the wooden table. On one end stood the well-mannered priest, trying his best to keep his patience as he carried on with the questioning. His eyes of dark mahogany peered through the lenses of his glasses, masking half of whatever expression that marked his face. This process was beginning to prove itself difficult, that sentiment easily concealed.

Silence reigned, leaving nothing to the inquiry the black-garbed cleric raised. The subject was being rather unresponsive, lethargic at most as she sat back on the wooden chair. The robe of crimson that was on top of her white dress complemented the short, hazel tresses that obscured her face. Her bowed head wasn't helping in giving any form of response. The gentleman was sure she was far from being in a stupor. She, as he would put it, was 'being a stubborn donkey with lips shut as a clam'.

A sigh left his lips, wanting to resign from this idea. "Look, the sooner you answer, the sooner you'll be relieved of this."

"What is it to you then...Father Hiyama?" she answered him, her posture still the same but her voice seeped with sultry spite. Honeyed yet at the same time bitter, it tingled in his ears yet it stung him. "What am I admitting to anyway?"

"When the truth is that we both have sinned and our sins are between us..."

The cleric knew that he was being toyed with. The whole act seemed too methodical to him. This very reaction was something he was waiting for. He leaned close, distance cut short between his face and hers. Kiyoteru managed to get a good look at her face. As much as his resolve is being thinned, he managed to keep his actions with a deal of self-control. Slowly, he brought his hand to brush aside the stray brown strands aside as the fair skin of her face was brought into view. Smooth as porcelain, fair and unblemished, it was something that seemed intimately familiar to him. It was as if he had touched something like this before.

Just like before...

Just like that time. Moonlit night, sprawled in linen sheets, stained only by sweat and passionate sin... Transgressions filled with betrayal to the self, indulging to every whim that both desired. She, being dominated as she writhed beneath him, would beckon for more whilst he would oblige and indulge all at once. The voices that echoed were of angels falling from grace, wings slowly severed as they are soon blinded.

How far have they fallen…?

Taken back by the sudden realization, the cleric summoned his composure as he looked at her eyes. Brown with a shade of red, just like his yet the sparkle of life it once held was no longer there. They were half-lidded, blank from what appeared to be despair.

"Meiko, you cannot stay quiet for long." Kiyoteru stated in a still and hushed voice. He let his palm keep hold of her cheek, letting her look back at him with full attention.

Forced to only look at him, Meiko noted the gleam of his eyes behind his spectacles. Those orbs staring back at her were dark brown, like the shade of the wooden chair she was using. It somehow left her intrigued with this fact. The memory she had held onto for all this time stated otherwise. Was there any difference at all?

Vermillion. His eyes were brilliant with this shade of vermillion. She made sure his face was burned into memory. With hands clasping his visage, feeling every shape and contour, she was sure to remember this man that gave her release to her anguish. He made her forget her sorrow. He made her forget her anguish. His touch and his crimson eyes will remain in fragments of recollections...in exchange of his delight.

Why is it like this? She could not comprehend this scenario before her. It was a torture that she would never get used to. It was somehow breaking her will. There was no escape to begin with. None. Agony will be following her at every path she would take. This kind of illusion, however, was something she could not break out from. This is a nightmare in her waking hours...a living nightmare.

This man before her now, questioning her and making her confess her sins bore the same face. The same voice, the same contour and feature, the same feel with his touch. It was unlikely to be so.

The man that brought her bliss and this man interrogating her with relish were one and the same. It can't be possible. She was sure it isn't yet it confirmed the chance that it was likely to be.

"They say that the person who loves a demon has his heart stolen," she softly answered, trying hard to keep herself from trembling.

"Forbidden love..." that was all he could say out of the words he could muster. "That's the sin you admit to? There is more than that, I believe..."

"And with that we have brought to ourselves a lofty crown and a heavy burden. We are the same, you and I."

There wasn't anyone else in that room, no one in sight. If there were, they would find themselves in this compromising situation. He already prepared for this after telling the guards and his companions to leave them. With no one else in sight, he removed his spectacles. The brunette could not believe what was revealed before her.

Crimson. They were crimson.

This can't be. It was him…it was Father Hiyama all along? Meiko was shocked, finding all the borders that held the truth together to be blurred. She didn't know what to believe anymore.

We're the same...all along we're the same. Kiyoteru thought to himself, silently cursing the memory of it all. He could remember every last detail to it, the thoughts of the sin that held the heaviest of chains as it ensnared at his very being.

'You cannot deny me, Kiyoteru. My voice will always be yours to hear.' The voice rang in his head as the dark hall of the Parsonage began to glimmer in silver. The stone floor began to reveal the intricate patterns of the Magic Circle. The darkness cast away as arcane light began to illuminate the room. The air stirred and moved, causing his robes and the pages of his tome to billow and flutter.

'You have no power over me. I will prove it to you right here and now.' He said boldly as he gazed back at the ancient tome, searching for the verse fitting for the action of sealing.

'Wanting to take control of power then throwing it back into its prison after knowing that it can overwhelm, your cowardice and folly will be your undoing.'

The winds have stopped in circling around him. The afterglow of the spell now dissipated, leaving behind an unnatural calm. He grew cautious, not letting anything slip through his watchful gaze. A drop of sweat trickled from his temple down to his cheek out of the exerted effort from conducting the ritual. From how it appeared, it looked like it was over.

He was mistaken.

A hand quickly took hold of his head, covering half of his face in a single gesture. The grip was too strong that he could neither shake it off nor break away. The silver rays of moonlight began to pass through the sun well, revealing the dark figure that now had him captive. The man's very likeness and form had a striking resemblance. He was unsure if he was gazing at his own reflection. No, this one had taken the cleric's appearance, treating it as its own.

Kiyoteru stared at his doppelganger. This could spell his death. The being's scarlet eyes gleamed out of the shadows cast as a sign of power. With one eye left unhindered, the cleric watched in horror, as this slowly became his last moments.

'You have drawn me in with your voice. Your folly shall become your undoing.' The being said to him as his grip tightened. 'Give me your everything...'

"In these final moments, I gave out my last cry..."

Sinners have no place in a world that is pure. It was an ideal that the Inquisition went by. Realizing this flaw, the young cleric had made his realization. That day marked the death of his innocence. His baptism, on the other hand, was just beginning. This unfortunate victim before him was still unable to break free from the shock and the confusion. Her lips quivered, her body trembled as it held back sobs. Fear ruled her distraught state that it was pitiful to watch. The human wanted to grant her reprieve, rest in soft slumber. The demon, on the other hand, relished and thrived in her suffering.

"Maybe in this simple mercy, I can be forgiven…"

"Hush, Meiko, hush…" he cooed, smoothing her hair with his gentle hands. Pulling back, he gave a gentle smile as he whispered, "Close your eyes, this suffering will be over real soon."

In obedience, she closed her eyes, hoping that this is but a dream. Warmth began to grace her lips with softness and a warm breath. It reminded her of that man's kisses, during in those times when his embrace granted her peace. The sweet cloak of slumber covered her as she drifted to a peaceful rest.

"On the 1st day of September, three in the morning, the Avedia Cathedral was burned to the ground. The cause of the fire remains to be in question. While the Cathedral housed Inquisitors and conducted their operations as the arm of the Solaris Ecclesia, the methods used are noted to be in question. The motives behind the arson are still in question and are being investigated. There are no reported survivors to the destruction."

-Reports of the Inquisition, Book XIII, Report XXVI

The study within the Vocaloid Mansion was quiet that afternoon. Luka closed the book with a sigh, making her scratch her head with the conclusion of the report. Lost in thought, she didn't notice a certain purple-haired gentleman slip by and give her a warm hug from behind.

"Hey Luka-chan. I've been looking all over for you," he asked with a rather husky voice, making sure that it doesn't echo much within the room.

"Gakupo, you're not supposed to do that," the pink-haired woman protested a bit.

"Well, no one else is around so it's alright," Gakupo replied as he looked at the book resting on her lap. "So, what have you been reading?"

"A rather incredulous story written by someone," Luka replied with a sultry voice as she smiled, leaning back to him.

"Well, is he good?"

"You better read it for yourself." Luka handed the volume to him, now that the moment passed them in silence.

Gakupo mused as he read the contents. He recognized the name of the author just below the title. He smiled at the unlikely situation.

"Never thought that Hiyama would write something like this." The purple-haired samurai noted as he browsed through the pages, "He's good."

"Makes you wonder if the event was real or not," the pinkette sighed, taking note of his reaction.

"So this is where you two have been, Megurine-san, Kamui-san."

The two quickly turned in surprise, seeing Hiyama standing with his arms idled on his sides. Gakupo closed the book and gave a silly smile.

"Well, I still can't believe you wrote this story. It's a good read." Gakupo complimented.

"It's nothing really. I've given up on writing." The brunette answered with a dry tone. "Besides…"

Luka was startled. Hiyama made a gesture towards the door with his thumb as he continued.

"Master is waiting for us at the studio. We have a recording session in a few minutes." With those words, the bespectacled man left the room.

Gakupo grimaced for a bit as he lowered the book. He never thought Hiyama was able to sneak past him without incident.

"Since when did he became this good at sneaking? And go past me unnoticed, even?" Gakupo pondered for a moment while rubbing his chin. "What do you think, Luka?"

"Red eyes…" she only whispered. "It can't be…"

Author's Notes:

Well, I am not sure how the ending turned out but good thing I got this over with. As for the other stories I'm writing, I'm addressing at them one at a time now that I am two terms away from graduating. In other news, I am also asked to work on a script for a comic (to which, I was kept busy thinking before I could finish anything at all). I'm not sure if I have delivered the last portions poorly but right now, I don't want to say anything.

With this said, I'll see you again in another piece.

Sydney Grise